


trembling hands, resounding warmth

by AWitheredRose



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Graduation, Team as Family, anyways enjoy, i just like making my favourites suffer, i'm sorry tooru, it could be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, please do not be fooled, team meaning seijoh 4, this was just 4000 words of me projecting onto tooru, though i had platonic in mind while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWitheredRose/pseuds/AWitheredRose
Summary: His hands were trembling, Tooru realised.Girls were confessing to their beloveds, offering them letters scribbled with their love on scented paper, cheeks dusted with rose and bodies bowed to the 90 degree. Boys were fiddling with the buttons on their shirts, palms slicked with sweat and eyes quivering with bashfulness. Parents were hugging their children, fathers clapping them on the backs and mothers ruffling their hairs.People were congratulating. People were celebrating. People were happy.And yet here Tooru was, standing underneath the shade of a rustling tree, leaves fluttering in the wind as it fell at his feet, hands trembling and breath quickening in rasping sobs that shouldn’t even be here.(or in which tooru cannot place a reason for his trembling hands during graduation, but his friends will hold them for him either way.)
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Iwaizumi Hajime & Matsukawa Issei & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	trembling hands, resounding warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about this mess.

His hands were trembling, Tooru realised. 

Maelstroms of conversations, tinged with laughter and imbued with cries, surrounded him in all of its intensity, a sense of pride and disbelief and anticipation, so prominent in this place and time, it could almost be a tangible thing draping itself across the courtyard, swathing itself across each blinding smile, each tear-stained face, each crinkle of certificates clutched in hands.

Girls were confessing to their beloveds, offering them letters scribbled with their love on scented paper, cheeks dusted with rose and bodies bowed to the 90 degree. Boys were fiddling with the buttons on their shirts, palms slicked with sweat and eyes quivering with bashfulness. Parents were hugging their children, fathers clapping them on the backs and mothers ruffling their hairs. 

People were congratulating. People were celebrating. People were _happy_.

And yet here Tooru was, standing underneath the shade of a rustling tree, leaves fluttering in the wind as it fell at his feet, hands trembling and breath quickening in rasping sobs _that shouldn’t even be here._

They shouldn’t be here because this was a tremendous milestone in his life, this was a new chapter in a novel where countless pages were still unfilled, this was the pinnacle of all his hard work in the past three years. So why? Why was this incorrigible lump lodged in his throat? Why was his heart clenched with so much pain, twisted with emotions that weren’t supposed to be there? Why did all of these faces and words and smiles made his stomach churn and lungs contract? Why couldn’t he breathe? And why were his hands _fucking trembling?_

His gaze darted across the courtyard, desperate for someone, _anyone_ , to pierce this incomprehensible static blaring in his ears, to pump back the oxygen in his lungs and to stop his hands from _fucking trembling._ And his eyes, as they always did, as they always have, wandered to where his friends were.

Issei was trapped in a headlock by his older brother, resigned to his unbecoming fate as Matsukawa-san mercilessly tousled his dark locks, laughter spilling from his lips and eyes crinkled at the corners. Takahiro was occupied with being harassed by his younger sister, displaying mock expressions of varying degrees of offence as he was pummelled with questions of how he had even managed to graduate. And Hajime was being practically strangled by Iwaizumi-san as she grasped at her son’s shoulders, mumbling words that flushed Hajime’s tanned skin. They were smiling. They were grinning. They were _happy_. So why the fuck couldn’t he just be the same?

He needed to leave. He needed to escape to someplace where he wouldn’t be able to ruin anyone’s graduation ceremony, someplace he could release the tears pricking his eyes, someplace where he could breathe, and where his hands could _please, please just stop trembling._

_ The gym. _

Volleyball. Hands poised to set and legs bent to jump. Heart pumping with adrenaline and eyes tracing the ball. He needed to leave. He needed the sting of the ball on his palm, needed the sound of it slamming the court on the other side of the net, needed his erratic breath stemming from exertion and not the clustered loneliness swarming his chest, needed for his hands to _stop trembling_ as they collided with the rippling surface of the ball. He casted a glance across the courtyard again. Hajime’s dimpled cheeks. Takahiro’s devious smirk. Issei’s quirked lips. He needed to leave. _Now._

Grass crunched beneath his feet, synchronising with his hurried steps towards the gymnasium, muscle memory guiding him rather than his consciousness. He didn’t think his mind would recall even the simplest directions at this point. All that remained was the pressure behind his eyes, the spasms in his breath and the tremors of his hands, accumulating with every word of elation that spewed from the mouths of these people encircling him. 

And how utterly horrible was that? For his own misery to be caused from others' happiness. How utterly horrible was he?

He stumbled in front of the doors of the gym, hands still trembling and breaths still quickening with each exhale. He fumbled with the pockets of his uniform, fingers itching for the keys to enter the gymnasium before realising— oh. Oh. 

He wasn’t the captain anymore. He was merely the alumni who had failed to bring his team to nationals. He wasn’t the—

Lunging at the doors, he grappled at the handles, pleading with the deities of _gods_ that the doors would just fucking open, that he could numb the thorns ensnaring his heart with the repetitive motions of a jump serve, that he could control the rhythm of his breaths with the timing of his toss, that he could just forget that after today, his three best friends would—

The doors swung open, with Tooru tumbling inside, revealing the barren grounds of the court, devoid of any volleyballs jostling the air, of any voices hollering corrections and encouragements, of any sneakers squeaking on the polished wooden floors. Devoid of Seijoh, his Seijoh. 

The doors slammed shut behind him, entrapping him in a world that was his. The voices and laughter and words ceased to be, muted behind the walls, leaving only the sounds of his breaths resounding in his solitude. He was familiar with this. He could comprehend this. In volleyball, he was the conductor, he orchestrated each movement, predicted each outcome and analysed each action. In volleyball, he could breathe.

In volleyball, his hands wouldn't tremble.

And so why did he always feel so empty in moments like this?

He walked towards the storage room, flicking on the lights and flooding the gym with brightness, wheeling out the nets and the cart of volleyballs, setting up the nets and picking up a ball from the pile, raising the ball to his line of sight and preparing to toss it— he paused, _his hands were still trembling._

“Oi! Shittykawa!”

The ball toppled to the ground, bouncing once and rolling to a stop at the shoe of the person behind him. Tooru stiffened, breath hitching once again as the stinging of his eyes resumed in response to that voice, and tears welled up in his eyes for the nth time that day for yet another idiotic reason, he blinked them away and turned around, his hands tucked behind his back to conceal their trembling.

“Iwa-chan! I thought you were with your parents. You should go back to them you know, it’s the big day after all, gotta have all those pictures taken so that you can prove to others that even a barbarian such as yourself can graduate.” He smiled, subtle at the corners, curling his lips to reveal just the barest hint of teeth, a mask perfected in the mirror for years, capable of fooling anyone in its vicinity. Anyone, but the three of them.

He continued, nails slicing his palms behind his back with every syllable, “Really Iwa-chan, I know that I’m so magnificent that it’s hard to not want to spend every waking moment with me but you should be with your family now.” He was rambling now, words coated in the bile that was rising in his throat. “I’m just going to practice for a bit, you don’t have to worry, I’ll be perfectly fine and I promise I won’t overdo it. Really, your parents must be waiting for you, you shouldn’t— ”

“Tooru, they’re waiting for you as well.” 

“...oh... oh well... I... I shouldn’t... I don’t... ” He trailed off, words dissolving in the air as his throat clogged up with repressed tears, his hands seemed to be trembling even further, his breaths stolen from him with only a sentence from Hajime. What was _wrong_ with his emotions today?

A huff sounded across from him, a certain type of sadness and frustration intertwined with one another, and Tooru could only stare at his childhood friend. Hajime’s eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes were alighted with a gentle fire that only three specific people could ever elicit out of him, steel forged from loving hands. 

He stepped forward, eyes fixated onto Tooru’s own as he approached him, the evergreen in forests upon the shadows of the night. And when he stopped in front of him, his hands, fingertips and palms calloused from years of volleyball, gestures always so careful even in its brashness, steered Tooru’s trembling ones into his own, steadying them as he stroked the skin. 

Warmth enveloped Tooru entirely. 

And the tightness in his chest seemed to ease ever so slightly with the pressure of Hajime’s skin against his own. 

When Hajime spoke again, his voice was a gruff timbre. “You didn’t have to leave.”

Tooru wrapped his fingers around the thumb that was tracing idle patterns onto the skin. “I know.” A whisper, only heard due to their closeness. “But I shouldn’t— ”

“Yo, Oikawa! Iwaizumi!” 

Blinking twice at the interruption, Tooru shifted his gaze towards the greeting, and there lounging by the door were two figures, both bearing a look of _pure glee_ , and the chaos following them framed by the rays of sunshine behind them, a foreboding creature of darkness looming in the morning light.

“Off to do sinful deeds so early in the morning.” Takahiro wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk lighting his face. “Such scandalous behaviour, wouldn’t you agree Issei?”

And Issei sighed in what resembled that of a disappointed parent and shook his head, “I expected this from Oikawa, but not you Hajime.” Pretending to wipe away a stray tear, he bemoaned, “And after all these years of raising you, is this what it’s all come to?”

“Makki! Mattsun! We were just— ”

“I will rip out your throats Hanamaki, Matsukawa.”

The two only exchanged grins before bounding towards Tooru and Hajime. Issei wrangling Hajime from behind, while Takahiro slung an arm across Tooru’s shoulders and whistled at the tangled appendages before him. “Oh, young love. I remember back in the days when I was just like this.”

“What you will be is dead.”

“Now, now Hajime, your elders are speaking.”

“I will murder you both.”

“But Hajime, you might hurt yourself if you strain to reach that high.”

“...”

Issei unclasped his hold around Hajime’s stomach, seemingly possessing the common sense that Takahiro had lacked, “Hiro. Good luck on the battlefield. I will remember your memes and assure that your creampuffs will not be alone,” he said, finishing his farewells with a mock-salute before deserting him without shame, slinking away from the vicinity of wrath and yanking Tooru along with him to the edge of the court.

“Hanamaki, you have 5 seconds to run,” Hajime growled, and his lips curled in what could be described as sadism.

Takahiro paled, backing away from the _satanic_ incarnation of a smile on Hajime’s face, each footfall becoming much more hurried than the last, and then, he bolted, “EVERYTHING I OWN WILL BE BURNED WITH ME! FUCK YOU ISSEI!” he screeched, holding up his middle finger for all to see as the aforementioned person waved back cheerily. 

Chasing after him, the two scurried about the gym floor with Takahiro reaching the cart of volleyballs and lobbing them at Hajime as he evaded his grasp, heedless of precision as an onslaught of volleyballs assaulted Hajime, enhancing his _aura of malice_ even further.

“YOU WILL NEVER CATCH ME, FOR I AM SIR HANAMAKI OF THE BALLS, VICTOR OF THE BALLSHIP, RULER OF BALLDOM AND GUARDIAN OF BALL— ”

Hajime tackled Takahiro to the ground, his declaration transforming into a yelp as they crashed to the floor, engaged in what resembled a wrestling match where one side’s loss was already assured and yet they still struggled against fate. “Hajime, you bastard—! Don’t you fucking dare—!” But alas, his protests were futile in the flurry of tickles that ensued, Takahiro’s laughter mingling with that of Hajime's as he wriggled in his clutches. 

“I will sue you with my non-existent lawyers you piece of shit!”

Witnessing the spectacle of his two friends scuffling on the ground with volleyballs scattered around them, in addition with Takahiro’s confident proclamations of his knowledge in court in regards to profiteroles, the weight crushing Tooru’s chest seemed to subside just a little more and he breathed out a soft laugh at his _stupid, stupid_ friends’ antics. 

_ He loves them. _

“Hey.” A murmur drifting in the wind, and Tooru turned to his side where Issei stood, concern dappling his eyes and wrinkling his brows. “Can you tell us what’s wrong now?”

The tussling had stilled farther away as the question was muttered, all of their gazes trained on Tooru, the worry in them searing Tooru to his soul. 

He laughed, artificial, plastic, a sound anyone could see was faked, “Nothing’s wrong. ” Three unimpressed stares answered him, and the trembling of his hands returned yet again. “Really, I’m fine, you guys don’t have to— ”

“Tooru,” Issei hands were upon his now, steadying them just as Hajime had, warm just as Hajime’s were “we’re here.”

And oh. Oh. He was a complete idiot to ever think he could hide anything from them.

“I don’t know... I don’t know why I’m— ” Tears blurred his vision, swatches of colours and lights, the distorted silhouettes of people who he would do anything for, and yet still, his lungs refused to cooperate and just _fucking breathe_.

“Tooru, hey,” Another pair of hands guided his own to a chest, the throb of a heartbeat overlapping the pounding of his, a whisper in his ears, soft and tender, “breathe, follow my heartbeat alright?”

And so he did, an inhale with each beat, an exhale with each pulse, and ever so slightly, his breathing finally, finally began to even out. 

“You alright now?”

He glanced up, and his very being calmed with the sight of jagged hair and olive eyes, he sighed, “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Hajime said, hand still over Tooru’s, still warm, still soothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Takahiro chimed in, an encouraging smile tethering on his lips.

“I... I don’t know what to... this isn’t supposed to be happening.” Tooru’s voice cracked, shattering with his words, with the glass in his eyes as his tears began to leak. “I don’t know why this is happening! I just saw all those people and families and I just— and I just felt so... so... alone... and I... don’t know why...”

A grip on his shoulder startled him, and the subsequent jerk to the ground even more so, he flailed his arms and landed in a heap across Issei’s torso, who in response offered a dopey smile. Takahiro grinned and joined them in their collapse, tugging Hajime with him until they were a pile of protruding limbs on the gym floor.

“Hanamaki, what the fu— ”

“Language Hajime, there are children present.”

“You mustn’t corrupt our youth, our dearest Iwaizumi.”

“If I knew which arm was mine, I would punch you in the gut.”

“Ah, but Hajime our love transcends even that of physical boundaries.”

“I possess no love for you.”

“How dare you do this in front of the children Hajime? Have you no shame?”

“We mustn’t fight dears, it will upset the children even further.”

“I’m filing a divorce for this imaginary marriage.”

“This is heartbreaking, hold me Issei.”

“I would but I do not know how many arms I have at this point.”

“Transcend physical boundaries Issei.”

“You’ll transcend life when I manage to find my limbs.”

Tooru giggled at the exchange, a sense of _home_ settling itself at the base of his ribs, he was content in this position now, even if his arm was squashed beneath someone’s back and a leg was sprawled across his chest. 

The others quieted before straightening up, untangling themselves and sitting so that the four formed something akin to a circle, Tooru sat up, confused by the abrupt change, “Guys...?”

They were all smiling. Fondness glazing over their countenances and dancing in their eyes, he smiled back, a genuine one this time.

“You’re never alone Tooru, we’re not going anywhere.” Takahiro leaned against Tooru’s shoulder, his head on the crook of his neck, his rusted locks tickling his ear.

“You could have always joined one of us, you would have always been welcomed,” Issei said, and cuffed his head lightly, causing Tooru to wrinkle his nose at the gesture. “You really are an idiot.”

“So mean to me.” He smiled, but it was subdued by the wobbling of his voice. “I didn’t want to intrude...”

Across from him Hajime snorted, raucous, boyish and so Hajime-like, “Are you kidding? Okaa-san was practically threatening me to find where you were and kept talking about how many pictures you owed her.” 

He glanced at Tooru and his eyes softened as he reached out and grasped Tooru’s hands which were starting to tremble again, caressing the skin as he had done so many times when they were little and he had scrapped his palms against splintering branches, trying to climb trees after Hajime. 

“What would my family be without you Tooru?” 

His breath hitched, the lump in his throat expanding yet again as he wheezed out, “Much sadder of course. Auntie would be in despair if her only child was such a brute.” And yet even with the jab, Hajime only squeezed his hands and said, “Well, it would balance out with a brat like you.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan,” he sniffled, tears dampening his face in two glistening streaks as he bowed his head, droplets dripping onto the panelled floor beneath them. “I am an angel of a child, I’ll have you know.”

“In your dreams Shittykawa.” he replied in a tone so unlike his words.

And with that Tooru heaved out a shuddering breath, and the facade shattered. The silence that reigned over all of them filled with his choking sobs, guttural and grating. He sensed arms twining around his torso, and one curving around his waist, hands were still clasping his own. 

“I don’t want to leave you guys.” A confession. Hushed in the expanse of the world. Secrets whispered in the dead of night.

“I don’t want for this to stop.”

Except. It wasn’t something uttered to the world. It wasn’t skeletons in abyssal darkness, shadows coalescing, light absent from every crevice. It was a fear and a desire all at once, a lingering sentence among their embrace, words meandering in the air until someone seized them.

Hajime did.

“What are you talking about, idiot? We’re not going to stop being friends.”

“We’re going to be so far away though.” More words. More wants. 

It was Takahiro who captured them this time.

“And we’re going to annoy each other with texts and calls all the time. Things will change but we won’t forget each other, Tooru.”

“What if we do though?” Another sentence. Another fear.

Issei snatched them all up.

“Good thing we have 4 of us so if one of us becomes a supreme dumbass, the other 3 can whack some sense into them.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll bombard the chat with memes— ”

“Oh god.”

“We’ll make sure to call you at fuck o’clock in the morning during the weekends— ” 

“And when we’re extra annoying, the weekdays as well.”

“ —just to scream in your face.”

“Please don’t.”

“And we’ll visit each other every chance we get.”

Words in the air. Words on the ground. He thinks he loves the words from his friends the most.

“You’re not alone, Tooru. We won’t allow you to be.”

He thinks he loves his friends the most.

Tooru slouched against Takahiro, exhaustion chipping away at his mind, weariness eroding his heart and yet a pulsating warmth seeped into the marrow of his bones, his body relaxing with the presence of his closest friends around him. Enclosed in a cocoon of warmth and safety, until eventually his tears dried and his cries receded.

He lifted his head and smiled at them, voice a hoarse whisper as he said, “Thanks, guys.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re our team baby after all.” Issei chuckled at Tooru’s offended squawk, combing his fingers through his chestnut locks in an almost affectionate way.

“It isn’t even noon and we’re already being sappy.” Takahiro shook his head still resting against Tooru’s shoulder, his hair brushing Tooru’s nose. “For shame guys. For shame.”

“Ah, but it’s a special day Hiro, so please forgive me for this ultimate act of sappiness.” Issei removed his fingers from Tooru’s hair and picked at the second button of his uniform, fingernails severing the threads securing it to the cloth before it snapped off and the disc was between his fingers. 

Tooru gasped, holding a hand to his heart as he suppressed his laughter, “My, my Mattsun, is this a confession?”

His reply was a deadpan stare and a monotone, “Not to you unfortunately.” Tooru spluttered in indignation, but Issei ignored him, instead whirling towards Takahiro and standing up, executing a flourishing bow as he said, “Will you accept my love Hiro?”

And with an absolutely straight face, Takahiro hoisted his head from Tooru’s shoulder, plucked the button out of his fingers and exhaled a pained sigh, “I’m sorry Issei but my love resides in someone else.”

With a look of _sheer betrayal_ painting his face, Issei clutched his chest as he gasped, “But after all I have done for you? Who?”

Tearing his own button from his uniform, Takahiro shoved it at Hajime’s face, “My dearest Hajime, my deepest love is within your heart, will you take me as your one and only?” Chuckling, Hajime accepted the button and proceeded to unfasten the one attached to his uniform, his button slitted between his thumb and index finger.

Hajime grinned impishly at him, “Sorry Takahiro, but if I didn’t give mines to him, he would whine about it for years and I would never hear the end of it,” he said.

He shifted towards Tooru, cradling his wrist with one hand as he pressed the plastic into his palm, and whispered “I love you, you big idiot.” Tooru’s heart was in danger of imploding at this rate. But even so, he whispered back, “I love you too.”

Behind Hajime, Takahiro crumbled into defeating sobs, shouting of Hajime’s betrayal and sins of adultery, “Unforgivable, turning his back on me like that, what kind of man does that Issei?”

“You did it to me Hiro.”

“Oh. Right.”

Detaching his button from the threads affixing it, Tooru beamed and flung his arms around Issei, dropping the button into his opened hands and nuzzling his hair into Issei’s cheek, “Don’t worry Mattsun, my affections for you will overcome everything!”

Issei patted his head once before seeming to reconsider his choices, “No thank you,” he said, and shoved him off his shoulders.

Tooru pouted, a lightness flitting in his body as he maintained his act of petulance, “Rejecting my love is so rude Mattsun.”

“Sorry Tooru, my love already belongs to Hiro.”

“It is truly a tragic tale of unrequited affections.”

“We should form a club.”

“And cry.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Hajime staggered up to stand, offering a hand to Tooru and pulling him to his feet as well, “Come on idiots, we still have pictures to take and the speech from the principal to endure.”

Takahiro groaned, tumbling to his side with one hand clinging onto Hajime’s leg, “Or... we could hide out here.”

“Hanamaki, no.”

“Hanamaki, yes.”

“Hanamaki, double yes.”

“Matsukawa!”

“...Hanamaki, triple yes.”

“...”

“You can’t win this Hajime.”

“...oh for fuck sakes, fine.”

Whooping in celebration, Takahiro flopped back so half of him was splayed upon Issei who simply grunted in return. “Freedom...”

“At least get up so we can— ”

Two new weights were promptly on the floor as Takahiro grabbed both Hajime and Tooru’s ankles, evoking an undignified yelp from Tooru as he crashed to the ground, Hajime’s body underneath him cushioning his fall.

“At this point, murder seems to be too lenient for you.”

“Shush Hajime, let me sleep.”

“...you do realise that we aren’t supposed to be here at all right?”

“You have to take risks sometime Hajime.” Takahiro poked his finger to Issei’s shoulder, only to be acknowledged with a drawling snore. “See? Issei’s already asleep.”

Tooru grasped Hajime’s hand, intertwining them as he placed them between their faces, only a hairbreadth away, children once again under the florescent lights of the gym. “Let’s listen to them, Iwa-chan. I’m feeling kind of sleepy too.”

“That’s because your sleeping schedule is shit, Crappykawa.

“It is not.”

“...didn’t you survive on 21 cups of coffee with no sleep for 3 days?” Takahiro interjected, which was _completely unwarranted._

“...that was during finals.”

“You should rest, Tooru...” Takahiro’s mumble faded into the quiet as his words were replaced with the even breaths of sleep.

A languid smile adorned Tooru’s lips at his friend’s drowsiness, and turning his head to the side, it stretched out even further at the sight of Hajime’s closed eyes and peaceful expression. 

Following his friends, he shut his eyes as well, blocking out the overhead lights and curling his body around Hajime’s, the sensation of their interlaced hands calming the whirl of his mind.  And as he drifted off to the realms of slumber, his breaths softening with each exhale, Tooru thought, it would be okay.

It would be okay because his friends were here, napping on the floors of their school gymnasium as their graduation ceremony commenced outside the doors.

It would be okay because promises of staying together, of not being separated by distance, of preserving their friendship waltzed above them, whispers of the past.

It would be okay because in the encompassing warmth of their clasped hands, Tooru’s hands weren’t trembling anymore.

_ -fin _

**Author's Note:**

> I... I tried my best for my first fic and by that I mean this was spewed out at 4 in the morning because sleep is for peasants and I will not succumb to the laws of nature. My soul was starved for more seijoh4 content so... this happened, this was supposed to be part of a series of vignettes I'm currently writing but then 1000 words turned to 4000 and... here we are. It wasn't explicitly stated but my headcanon is that Tooru has pretty shitty parents and he has a sister but she was in a foreign country so he didn't really have any family with him and so he was sad and lonely but don't worry, he has iwa, makkki and mattsun now. And the gym was open because it was graduation and the school wanted everyone to have a chance to reminisce and take pictures and shit so... yeah. Also for those of you who don't know, giving 'your most beloved person' the second button of your uniform during graduation is a custom in Japan, I don't know if this can apply here?? since in my mind I wrote them as platonic/queerplatonic-ish, and my experiences with Japan is limited to the internet and my brother studying there, so I'm sorry if this was inaccurate. Anyways, thank you for reading, I really, really appreciate you spending your time on my work so thank you!!! - A


End file.
